Addicted
by RisingFire
Summary: There were five things that Draco Malfoy was addicted to. The first was chocolate cake. The second was muggle romances. The third was coffee with extra cream. The fourth was Firewhiskey. And the fifth and final thing was Hermione Granger. Draco/Hermione Oneshot. Rating mostly for innuendo and language, but with a little smut at the end.
1. Chapter 1

**Addicted**

* * *

There were five things that Draco Malfoy was addicted to.

The first was chocolate cake.

The second was muggle romances.

The third was coffee with extra cream.

The fourth was Firewhiskey.

And the fifth and final thing was Hermione Granger.

* * *

**Chocolate Cake**

Every year on Halloween, the House-Elves cooked up four enormous communal puddings shared between the houses. They'd had treacle tart, pumpkin pie, vanilla cheesecake and trifle so far.

This year, the entire Hall waited in anticipation for the enormous dish to rise out of the table for its wonders to be spread among the students.

Opposite him, Pansy Parkinson licked her lips in anticipation.

With a smattering of applause, the most enormous chocolate cake appeared, and _it was beautiful._

White chocolate frosting decorated the miles upon miles of squidgy, gooey, dark sponge, and to top that were flakes of more chocolate, the kind of chocolate that you say to yourself, "one bite," and end up having twelve.

"Dig in!" cried Dumbledore from the Head Table, and the students needed no further instruction.

Grabbing plates and forks and napkins or, in Crabbe and Goyles cases, scooping it up with their bare hands, they carved away from the immaculate log of deliciousness before them.

It took him half a minute and half a slice of chocolate cake to notice _her._

There were cake crumbs all over her chin, which should have been in no way attractive, but, by Merlin, it _was._

She scooped her frosting up with one finger, and it was _definitely _attractive how she sucked on her digit until all of it was gone, melting on her pretty little tongue and then-

And this was the icing on the cake (excuse the pun)-

She turned to her friend, Female Weasley and said, clearly enough that somehow he could hear her from the Slytherin table-

"This cake is absolutely _orgasmic._"

He was hooked.

* * *

**Muggle Romances**

Draco Malfoy had never once ventured into the muggle section of the library at Hogwarts, and he was very proud of that fact, thank you very much.

He had definitely never once ventured into the romance part of the muggle section of the library at Hogwarts, and he was even prouder of that fact.

That is, until today.

On the fifth of November- or Bonfire Night, as the muggles called it- _she _entered the library and headed, not in the direction of _Advanced Charms_ _Volume III_ or _O.W.L. level Potions _but straight towards the muggle books.

And, with her display of how much she liked chocolate cake fresh in his mind, he decided against his better judgement (if he had any left) to follow her.

He leant against the books at the end of the aisle waiting for her to notice him. Unfortunately, this seemed to take too long, so he coughed instead, drawing her attention.

Her response was quite disheartening, actually, considering what he was hoping for (perhaps a live action display of what she could do with chocolate cake).

"What do you want, Malfoy? And be warned," she said, narrowing her eyes and lowering her wand from his chest to his crotch, "I know a number of vanishing charms."

His eyes widened, "You wouldn't!"

"Want to bet?" Evan-"

"Nooo!" he wailed, and she dropped her wand to the floor amusedly.

"Relax, Malfoy. I'd only do that if you really pissed me off," she rolled her eyes.

"Well, I knew that of course," he said, still looking shaken.

"What are you doing here?"

"In the library? I can read, you know, Granger."

"You learn something new every day."

"Hah. So witty. I am genuinely pissing myself over here."

"You wouldn't be if I'd said 'esco'."

He gave her a terrified look. "Promise you won't! I need these! For… purposes!"

"Oh, you mean like shagging Slytherin whores?"

"Who says they're Slytherin?"

"Well, no Gryffindor would willingly touch you."

"Sure about that?" he winked and took a step forward.

She took one back, and collided with the bookcase. "Perfectly."

He carried on stepping closer, and she shifted uncomfortably, seemingly forgetting her wand.

"I thought- um, I thought we were talking about how you couldn't read," she said, clinging to the vain hope that insults would deter him.

"Oh, Granger," he chuckled, "Of course I can read. Didn't anyone ever tell you?"

"Tell me what?" she tried not to shudder as he leant down to her ear, puncturing her personal bubble with his lovely- um, disgusting (lovely) scent, like Quidditch and grass and rain and-

"Reading is sexy," he whispered, and she almost melted, eyes fluttering closed…

When she opened them a few moments later he was gone; this time, with a victorious smirk.

He didn't regret at all that he'd ventured into forbidden territory (muggle romances) to win.

It was worth it.

* * *

**Coffee (extra cream)**

If there was one thing that Draco Malfoy liked in the morning, it was coffee. Rich, dark coffee, with a spoonful of sugar and as much cream as he could get away with.

Without his morning coffee, Draco was a beast. A horrid, grouchy, de-caffeinated beast.

"Pansy, pass the cream," he asked, licking his lips in anticipation as his mug filled up with coffee. Beautiful coffee.

"Sorry, this one's empty."

His head snapped up. "Empty? How can it be empty?" he grabbed the pot and shook it furiously upside-down. A single drop of cream fell into his eggs.

Breathing heavily, he closed his eyes and counted to ten, saying to himself, "No, there are other pots of cream. Not every pot of cream had been used. You will have your morning coffee! YOU WILL!" He exploded.

"Blaise, cream!" Pansy whispered, terrified out of her mind at the raging beast before her.

"Sorry, Pans, there's none left- oh, shit."

"I WILL HAVE MY COFFEE!"

"Why is there never any cream?" Pansy wailed, cowering as Draco stood, eyes blazing, searching for a full pot of cream.

"Ah-hah! GRYFFINDORS! With my cream!"

"Oh dear," Blaise muttered, "This is not good."

"Accio Gryffindor cream pot!"

He sat down happily as the cream flew over to them and began pouring sedately. "I love magic," he murmured, taking a sip.

Ah, beautiful coffee. Wonderful coffee.

"Malfoy!" A voice intruded his sipping, and his eyes narrowed.

Who dares interrupt my coffee time?

"Give me the cream back!"

Of course. It was _her._

Shuddering, he parted with his coffee, placing it down on the table.

"No," he said calmly, turning around to face the cream wench, "It's mine now. All mine!"

"But you stole it! And I want my coffee too!" she cried, frustrated.

If there was one thing Hermione Granger liked in the morning it was her coffee.

"Come and get it," he grinned wolfishly, waving the pot of cream tantalizingly in front of her face.

Her eyes became slits and she stalked closer to him. "With pleasure," she growled, and threw a slice of toast at his face.

He blinked. "Did you just-?"

"Throw a slice of toast in your face? Yes, I did, and next time it'll be jam and it'll go in your _hair."_

"No! Not the hair!" he said, backing away, horrified.

"Oh, yes, the hair," she smirked, and reached for ammunition.

"Blaise, save me!" He yelled, grabbing his friend to use as a human shield.

Blaise looked down slowly at the marmalade now marring his perfectly white, crisp shirt.

Carefully, Draco dropped him, eyes wide.

"Sorry!" Hermione managed to squeak, before using Draco's distraction to go for the cream.

"Hey! Stop it! Get off me!" He yelled, face smothered by her arm as she tried to reach the cream pot, which he was dangling behind his head just out of her reach. "Why do you want my cream so badly? Get your own cream!"

"But I want this cream!"

From the sidelines of the fight, Blaise and Pansy watched; the former disgustedly wiping marmalade from his shirt.

"Damn, that's going to leave a stain…."

"Do you think they know that they're practically wrestling each other talking about Draco's cream?"

"By the looks of it, no," Blaise said, looking up, "Although I personally reckon it'll only be a matter of seconds before Draco clues in." He snickered. "Oh, just look at his face!"

Sure enough, as she pushed herself further upwards in pursuit of the cream, and Draco got a very decent view down her shirt, his eyes went wide as he realised that he had a pretty girl on top of him and he _wasn't _taking advantage of the situation.

Having no hands at his disposal, he decided his teeth would have to do.

"Did you just… nip my neck?"

"Only a little bit."

"Oh look," Blaise sniggered, "Draco got a clue."

With a very Slytherin grin, Hermione utilised the situation, pressing herself up against him…

He knew his arm had gone slack but right now he didn't care. He was very preoccupied with the fact that Hermione Granger was practically _riding_ him.

"Hah!" she said triumphantly, snatching the cream pot, and sneering in his face.

"Yeah, you got the cream, well done," he muttered dazedly.

"I told you I would," she said, leaning back until she was sitting on his knees. "I told you!"

Then, before his very eyes, she pulled the lid off the cream pot, stuck her finger in, and _licked _the cream off.

"Am I dreaming?" Blaise asked Pansy. "Is this really happening?"

"There is no way she doesn't know what she's doing," Pansy shook her head, "Look at him! He's practically salivating!"

Indeed he was. His eyes were glued to her finger and her tongue and this was worse than the chocolate cake; far worse, because here she was _sitting on him_ and he couldn't do a single thing.

He pushed her off him with visible effort, trying to cover up exactly what she'd done to him and little Draco.

"Thank you," she smiled, and turned around to leave.

"Hey, Granger," he called, trying to hide how hoarse his voice was, and she turned around. He licked his lips suggestively at her, and she turned bright pink. "Enjoy the cream."

When he turned around, Blaise was smirking at him knowingly.

"Oh, shut your face, Zabini."

Pansy and Blaise both burst into giggles.

* * *

**Firewhiskey**

Alcohol made him do strange things.

It made him even more promiscuous than he already was.

It made the urge to dance on tables nearly unbearable.

And, somehow, it made _her _attractive.

The Weasley Twins must have spiked the punch at this stupid dance, because there was no way that any of that (especially the last one!) could be happening whilst he was sober.

The Yule Ball was a stupid tradition. Damn the bloody Triwizard Tournament for bringing it to Hogwarts the year before. Damn Umbridge for not putting a stop to it. Damn Dumbledore for not noticing the alcoholic punch before it was too late. Damn the Weasley Twins. Damn Female Weasley. Damn the Weasel. Damn all red-headed entities. Damn _her._

I mean, really, who wants to walk around in stuffy robes all night watching Pansy Parkinson make out with Blaise Zabini. Actually, without a drink he'd probably have Avada'd himself by now. Perhaps he better take the Weasley Twins off his list of Things to Damn.

He'd replace them with chocolate cake. Or maybe cream.

She was dancing with the Weasel.

They'd obviously both had the punch too, he decided, looking at how… adventurous his hands were being, and how she just giggled instead of slapping him in the face.

Wait a minute. She did just slap him in the face!

Things just got a little interesting.

Of course, he should just stay here to dance with Daphne Greengrass. She was probably quite drunk as well as him; it was very likely he could get off with her if he wanted…

_But she looked so sad._

The niggling voice in his head won, and he followed her as she left the Hall.

_Why am I doing this? I shouldn't be doing this. I should be going back to being groped by the oldest Greengrass-_

At that thought he almost turned around. And then he heard a sniffle, and his heart melted like that of a goddamned Hufflepuff.

Oh well, he could always blame the Firewhiskey that was in the punch.

The alcoves in the Entrance Hall were mostly full of snogging couples; he had no idea as to how she had managed to find an empty one to cry in.

"What did the filthy mustelid manage to do this time?"

She gasped, looked up, and tried to throw her shoe at him. Well, she did throw her shoe at him.

"Ow! God, watch where you're throwing those heels, they could take somebody's eye out!"

"That was the idea," she glowered stonily at him.

"Come on, you maniac, it's nearly Christmas, how about we call a truce for the night and help you with your problematic ginge?"

She promptly threw another shoe at him.

"Ow! What was that one for?"

"Just for fun," she smiled innocently.

"Well I hope you're happy. Now unless you have razor blades hidden under that dress to throw at me, I believe you're all out of ammunition, so how about you talk to me?"

"No."

"You have no idea how much effort I'm putting in not to be rude right now- oh, who cares, I should have just gone off and had sex with Daphne." And with that he tried to leave, and he would have done, were it not for the tiny voice saying:

"He called me 'Lavender'."

He stopped and turned. "What?"

"He called me Lavender. He felt me up, kissed me, and then called me Lavender."

"Lavender, Lavender… Is that the colour whore?" She stared at him, so he elaborated, "You know, Lavender Brown. Two colours in one name is just too much."

She giggled at his feeble slander towards her dorm-mate.

"Yeah, the colour whore. I might just call her that from now on."

"Tough break."

She paused. Then; "Sit down, ferret."

"Where? There isn't any floor. All I see is your huge-arse dress." She looked around for something to throw at him, but he went on, "I mean really, why couldn't you have just worn something slutty like the rest of the girls did?"

"Because then I'd be one of the rest of the girls. Oh, just sit on the dress, it's more comfortable than the floor."

He shrugged his jacket off and attempted to sit down on that instead but it proved to be harder than anticipated.

"Ow! That's my leg, not my dress!"

"That was for the shoes."

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Just for fun," he smirked, dropping down with his legs over hers.

There was a brief silence.

"So does this mean you like Weasel?"

"Don't call him that."

"Oh, bloody Merlin, why? He eats like a pig, speaks like a pig, and his name is _Weasel. Weasel._ Imagine being called that. _Hermione Weasel._ Sorry, but that just does not suit you._"_

"This from the man named Malfoy?"

"Oh, so I'm a man now, am I?" He winked, and she rolled her eyes.

"Would you prefer I go back to ferret?"

"_Weasel. Hermione Weasel."_

"Oh, shut it. And it's Weasley."

"Like that's any better. Hermione Weasley."

"Stop it."

He leaned forward until their noses were practically touching, and saw her eyes go wide.

Then he said, loud as he could, "Hermione Weasley!" before falling about laughing at her expression.

"Oh my God, you thought I was going to kiss you! You totally did!"

"Shut up! I did not!"

"You shut up, Hermione _Weasley!"_

"Oh, and Malfoy's better, is it?" she snapped, "Hermione _Malfoy?"_

"Yeah, because we're _sooo _getting married!"

"Give me my shoes back."

"Why?"

"So I can throw them at you!"

"Never!" he cried dramatically, clutching them to his chest, "They're mine!"

"Come here!" she said, exasperated, reaching over and going for the shoes. "Give me my shoes!"

"Nooo! They hurt!"

"Give-" she got hold of one of the heels and pulled.

"Them-" she tugged at his arms with the other hand.

"Back!" He let go, and she went flying back wards, holding both of them.

There was a loud ripping sound.

"Please, please don't let that be my dress," she said, not moving.

His eyes dropped to the large slit now running up from where his dress shoes pinned the material all the way up to her waist.

"Yeah, that was your dress," he said, eyes glued to the view he had of what looked to be a long, dangling, black ribbon.

She was wearing black knickers with ribbons on them.

"Aww!" She leaned over to inspect the damage, running her hands all the way up her leg to her waist. "Oh, look! This dress cost a fortune!"

"Yeah, look," he said absently, wondering what it would be like to tug on those ribbons.

"Oh, God, what am I going to do?"

"Well, I know what I'm going to do," he muttered, and reached out and gave the ribbon a gentle pull.

It took her two seconds to realise that he'd just pulled at her pants, and it took him about two shoes thrown at his face to realise that he'd actually done it, too, and hadn't been imagining it.

"That's going to leave a bruise," he grumbled, before coming to his senses. His face emptied of colour, and then swiftly turned bright red.

"Please, please tell me I didn't."

"Yeah, you did!"

"In my defence, I've had a lot of spiked punch, and who knows what those twins put in there!"

She thought about this for a moment, and then gave up. She'd be angry in the morning, but right now she'd had a lot of spiked punch too. "Fair enough. I need your wand, anyway."

His eyes almost fell out of his head. "You need my… wand?"

"Yeah, I don't have one," she said confusedly, before getting it and blushing. "No, I mean your actual wand! I left mine in my room and I need you to repair my dress!"

"Oh. Well that makes more sense. Sure you don't want to leave it like that?" he said, staring longingly at the ribbon, which he could have sworn was taunting him.

"Sure you want to push your luck?" she threatened, reaching for a shoe.

"Okay, okay! Keep still," he pulled his wand out of his sleeve and pinched the two rips together and muttered, "Reparo," dragging the wand up her leg, and then her thigh-

"Granger?"

She blinked her eyes open, unaware that they'd been closed. "Y-yeah?"

"Oh my God, you liked that! You're totally turned on right now, aren't you?"

"Shut up!"

"Don't deny it! You liked me running my wand up your leg, didn't you?"

"I said shut up!"

"I bet you'd have loved- mmph!"

He was just coming to terms with the fact that Hermione Granger had just kissed him- pulled his head down by his tie and _kissed him _(and rather well, too), and putting his tongue into action when suddenly she stopped.

Her eyes were wide and her face was red.

A slow smile spread across his face.

"In my defence, I've had a lot of spiked punch!"

"Yeah, sure." The smirk was still there.

"And I did tell you-"

"Yeah, sure." Was it her, or was the smirk kind of-

"Wipe that smirk of your face!"

"Or, what, you'll wipe it for me?" He started to snigger, but was interrupted.

_Pleasantly so,_ he thought, as her hands roamed through his hair.

Merlin, he loved Firewhiskey.

* * *

**Hermione Granger**

He wondered if there was a support group for this kind of addiction. Granger Anonymous or something.

Mind you, he was quite enjoying his addiction right now.

She had those ribbons on again, he noticed with a smirk.

Gripping her hips to steady her, he kissed his way up her thigh, and she moaned, fisting her hands in his hair.

When he got to the ribbons, he swiped his tongue over the place where her knickers met her legs, feeling her shiver, and then he tugged on it, just as he had that night at the Yule Ball. Except this time, he used his teeth.

Her hands slid down his neck and gripped his shoulders instead as he put his tongue into gear.

She tasted like coffee with extra cream.

Yes, he was addicted to Hermione Granger. He was addicted to how she smelt like Christmas- all cinnamon-y and like holly- and her laugh sounded like brassy bells, and her hair always looked tangled and messy and like she'd just had sex.

He was addicted, but he didn't really mind.

* * *

AN/ You might be able to guess that this was supposed to be serious but I just couldn't do it. I'm very bad at writing bad fics. Ah well. I hope yu enjoyed it, and don't forget to Review!


	2. Chapter 2

AN/ WHAT IS THIS? A CHAPTER TWO? WOW. JUST WOW, RIGHT? Blame bebe2580 for this :D I wasn't really sure whether to do the last chapter from Hermione's point of view, or write something entirely different. I went with the second option, and I hope it's okay.

Also, I hope I got the timings and things right... I have Order of the Phoenix here so I think I got most of it, but if you find anything out of continuity (other than the non-existent Yule Ball) please, PLEASE leave a review so I can fix the mistake.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Addicted: Chapter Two**

There were five things that Hermione Granger was addicted to.

The first was Ancient Runes.

The second was the Prefect's Bathroom.

The third was Quidditch matches.

The fourth was expensive lingerie.

And the fifth and final thing was Draco Malfoy.

* * *

**Ancient Runes**

To Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, her best friends, it was a mystery as to why Hermione Granger took Ancient Runes class.

It was sort of a mystery to her, too, most of the time.

Originally, way, way back in Third Year, she'd mostly just wanted to try a bit of everything, which led to her crashing and burning, exhaustedly, and having to drop both Divination (which was a load of tosh, in her opinion, especially when taught by that bloody Trelawney mental case) and Muggle Studies (which, to be perfectly fair, she had absolutely no need for anyway).

Then, in Fourth Year, she'd thought of dropping Ancient Runes too, because, unlike Arithmancy, it wasn't at all interesting; and, unlike Care of Magical Creatures, it wasn't at all useful. Unless you were planning on spending your life staring at tiny marks that were supposed to be magical, it was very unlikely that you would _ever _have to use Ancient Runes. But she had stuck it out, determined to at least get an OWL in the subject before quitting.

A few weeks into Fifth Year she discovered just exactly why she took Ancient Runes. She never told Harry and Ron, though; because it wasn't exactly something you would tell them.

Sure, she hated it- most of the time.

Because most of the time she took the class with a load of uptight Ravenclaws.

By Fifth Year, however, enough people had dropped the useless class that she, Dean Thomas and three Ravenclaws were the only people left. Therefore, it only made sense to combine classes with the lone Hufflepuff and the two Slytherins: Blaise Zabini and _Draco Malfoy._

Originally, she had been disgusted at having to sit behind number two on her most hated people list. His blonde head had got in the way of the board; every now and then he'd turn around and make a horrible comment about her hair; and, most of all, he was just as good as her, _if not better, _at Ancient Runes.

On Friday, October twenty-eighth, she became a little less disgusted and a little more… _something else._

"Ohbra, cactra, gansta, leta," Professor Vector chanted.

"Ohbra, cactra, gansta, leta," the class droned.

"Rita, verna, sola! Come on, louder!"

"Rita, verna, sola," the class continued droning, not changing tempo or pitch in the least.

Half of the class knew the runes, and half of them didn't care in the least. Hermione was part of the first half, and with nothing to look at but Malfoys back, she was finding it incredibly difficult to concentrate on anything.

She slumped, she slouched, she shrugged, but no amount of fidgeting could change the fact that she would rather be anywhere but here, in a stifling, musty classroom listening to droopy Professor Vector repeat runes in the hope that some of them would stick.

In fact, all her fidgeting accomplished was to send her quill flying forward, rolling to a halt just in front of Malfoy's desk.

Damn.

Without looking back at her, he reached forward, leaning over his desk to collect her quill for her.

Giving her a spectacular view of his taut, firm backside.

Distracted, she stopped chanting, and focused on trying not to drool, instead.

He straightened up, leant back wards onto two chair legs, and dropped the quill onto her desk.

She blushed, realising she'd just been ogling Malfoy. _Malfoy._

What did it matter if he was attractive? He was _Malfoy. _He was enough of an arse that it counteracted how nice his actual arse was!

"Nice view?" He muttered, before dropping forward again, and she could almost _hear _him smirking.

She turned bright red at the realisation that he had known, as well!

Oh, the humiliation!

Oh, the shame!

She might as well off herself now and get it over with.

_But then, _an annoying voice in her head said, lewdly, _you'd never get a view like that again._

It was at that moment that she realised just how much she'd always loved Ancient Runes.

* * *

**The Prefect's Bathroom**

There were several privileges to being a Prefect.

One of them was free reign of the castle at every hour of the day.

Another was the power to hand out detentions.

But by far the best privilege was the Prefect's Bathroom.

Harry hadn't been lying when he'd recounted his tale of the beauty of the bath: hundreds upon hundreds of taps flowed into what could only be called a swimming pool, each one a different fragrance and a different colour, some emitting ever-lasting bubbles, or water with imaginary fishes in it. There was even one with the effect of a very large, very icy cold shower.

She surveyed the bathroom in all its splendour, delighted. Flicking her wand at several taps, she clapped her hands at the sweet-smelling waters that tickled her senses.

There was only one downfall to the magnificent bathroom: no lock. Just a mere password protected her naked body from the world. Students were supposedly organised enough to create a schedule, which, in all honesty, was a ridiculous idea. Instead they just hoped for the best, and, if worst came to worst, shoved a chair under the handle.

In her excitement, she forgot the chair; instead, diving into the inviting waters.

This was to be her downfall.

She took her time in the bath, happily standing under the waterfall-like jets and exploring the many features of the bath: from water giving the illusion of being ink-black, like the lake, to water scented exactly like rain.

By the time she got out of the bath she felt like a water Goddess or some such.

That was until someone said, "Nice arse, Granger," from behind.

She shrieked and grabbed a towel, going three different colours in the space f as many seconds, before turning round to yell at the intruder.

Oh, God.

Malfoy had seen her naked.

Oh, the horror!

The best thing to do in this situation, she decided, was to hex him. Specifically, hex that bloody _smirk._

Unfortunately, her wand was all the way over by the other wall, along with her clothes.

Crap.

Crappety crappety crap.

All she could do instead was to gape wordlessly at him.

"Well," he chuckled, "You know what they say. An eye for an eye."

Words, return! Words words words!

She spluttered a little, and then, composing herself: "Yeah, an eye for an eye, not _an arse for an arse!"_

"So you were checking my arse out last week?"

"I- no! Why would you even- no!"

He raised an eyebrow at her inarticulacy. She looked down at her feet.

"Fine, I was, but you weren't naked!"

"Perhaps we can fix that?" he said, and she looked up so fast she should have got whiplash.

"What are you- um, Malfoy, are you saying- oh."

He didn't reply, just began pulling off his tie.

Words, return! Words words words!

His shirt came next, followed by his shoes, and then his socks.

As he began pulling off his slacks, she let out an 'eep' and covered her eyes.

"Oh no, Granger," he reprimanded, pulling her hands away from her face, "This is for the stunt with the cake."

Then he turned around, and pulled off his boxers, leaving very little to her imagination.

She found herself mesmerized, unable to look away, until, with a SPLASH!, he dropped into the pool.

Spray powdered her, breaking the spell, and in a few seconds she'd gone, scurrying out of the bathroom, beet red.

Her words did not return until the following morning.

* * *

**Quidditch Matches**

Hermione Granger hated Quidditch. She hated how dangerous the sport was- she was always afraid that one of her friends would fall off their brooms and end up dead-, she hated the stupid house rivalries it promoted- _Weasley is our King, _honestly- and right at that moment she hated the Slytherin seeker.

"_Weasley is our King_

_Weasley is our King_

_Weasley was born in a bin_

_Weasley cannot save a thing_

_That's why Slytherins all sing_

_Weasley is our King!"_

The song echoed round the pitch from the Slytherin stands as Hermione twisted her scarf round her arms over and over again in fury.

A few seconds later, Malfoy passed the Gryffindor stands and amidst their boos she heard him yell, "Like my song, Granger?"

It was at that point that she decided to do something about it.

"_Weasley was born in a bin_

_He always lets the Quaffle in_

_That's why Slytherins all sing…"_

Suddenly both seekers were diving and she yelled the first thing that came to mind, loud as she could: "Malfoy, your arse is white and misshapen!"

Beside her Ginny's eyes practically fell out in shock, but she didn't notice-

She knew he'd heard her, knew it'd affected him, because in the tiniest space of time he hesitated and then it was all over- Harry had the Snitch!

Screaming along with the rest of Gryffindor, she laughed at the expression of rage on his face, and almost felt sorry for the poor bugger.

Almost.

She knew she'd have to pay for that, but it didn't matter, because despite their stupid song Gryffindor had won.

Before she knew it she was hugging Ginny and Lavender and anybody else who was anywhere near her.

Maybe, just maybe, Quidditch wasn't quite that bad after all.

* * *

**Expensive lingerie**

The dress was ankle length and a deep, dark blue. Paired with a pair of silver strappy heels, it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

And all she had to go with it was plain, old, white panties.

She stared at her underwear draw forlornly. Nothing in there would do the dress justice! Everything was comfortable, it was safe, it was… boring.

The Yule Ball was in a week and she had no decent underwear!

No-one would ever touch her in those! Of course, she didn't have anybody in mind…

She blushed, remembering how Ron had reacted when she'd told him she was writing to Viktor.

It was all for Ron, it really was. Not that he'd ever want to see _there _but it would be good to know, just in case…

Oh, who was she kidding?

She looked down at the dress splayed on her bed, and then at her underwear draw.

She needed Ginny.

It had taken a lot of stammering and blushing and looking down at her feet before Ginny finally got it.

"Oh, Hermione!" she cried, "I've been waiting for this for so long!"

Bemused, she risked a glance up at her friend, who looked almost proud.

"And now I can finally teach you the secret towards, well, everything!"

"Really, Gin, it's only underwear," she mumbled, and was promptly ignored.

"I know who we need!"

Oh, please don't involve _more _people. Her plight was bad enough as it was.

"We need Eliza Forthright!"

"Huh?"

"From Witch Weekly, silly!" Ginny reached over to her bedside table and pulled a magazine out from under a lamp, sending the lamp flying.

"Look! See, Owl order! This is the solution to all of your problems, my amateurish friend."

Tentatively, she took the magazine at the page which was open, displaying racier bras and knickers than she had ever seen in her life.

"You need a thong, Hermione."

"I'm not wearing a thong."

"You need a thong."

"I'm not wearing a thong."

"You need one."

This argument continued for some time before Hermione stormed out. A few seconds later she returned, embarrassed, for the magazine, and then stormed out again.

The night was spent pouring over pictures of lace, ruffles and ribbons, from intricate floral designs to what were essentially just strings. There was even some leather.

Who knew there was so much to choose from?

Eventually her eyes settled on the perfect pair: black, and almost modest in design- if it weren't for the dangling black ribbons, that is.

In the back of her mind, she wondered if Ron was worth this beautiful dress and these black ribbons.

Then she decided: Well, she'd have to buy some eventually, even if it weren't for Ron, so why not?

A few days later, she was utterly glad to have chosen the ribbons, as a tipsy, blond Slytherin pulled on them.

* * *

**Draco Malfoy**

Yes, she hated him. She hated his singing, she hated his flippy hair, and she hated his smirk.

But at the same time, she couldn't get enough of it.

She moaned as he tugged on the ribbons with his mouth, and ran her hands through his hair.

Words, return! Words, words-

Oh, who cared.

This wasn't love, or even like...

It was want, and need, and a burning, raging desire.

And that was enough for her, right now.

* * *

AN/ Okay, this should be it. I swear. Where else could I take it, after all?

Reviews are much appreciated!

~RisingFire


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